


It's a Beautiful Sound, It's a Beautiful Noise

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angel Harry, Bottom Harry, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Fisting, Humiliation, M/M, Name-Calling, Self-Lubrication, Smut, Sub Harry, Vampire Louis, angel cum, idk tho because harry likes what's being done to him, ill just tag it, this might be considered dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:41:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He feels Louis’ fangs piercing the pale skin of his neck without warning, pain shooting down the upper half of his body. He feels a sucking sensation at the spot, like a drink being sucked from a straw. He feels the vampire’s lips suckling the surrounding area, drawing out every last drop of blood like Harry is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>or, harry loses his halo, and he really needs to get it back</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Beautiful Sound, It's a Beautiful Noise

**Author's Note:**

> so i've been getting so many bottom harry feels lately. i honestly have no idea why, i usually do like bottom louis...but ah well, bottom harry seemed like it would fit better for this story
> 
>  
> 
> i got inspired to write this because i was listening to hey angel at the listening party that i honestly anticipated to be a sad song. i also was listening to angel by the weeknd, which is a beautifully dark track
> 
>  
> 
> special thanks to my lovely beta: grumpynoodle  
> you are truly amazing to be able to edit my grammar and spelling nightmares xx

Harry really does love to play with his halo. He likes to twirl it around in his hands and loop it around his arms like a bracelet, circling and spinning it with his fingers so it melds into a glowing, gold blur. He likes to toss it a few inches above his head and catch it on his toes, spin it around his ankles for the sake of it. He admits that it isn't the safest practice. Halos should be kept floating a few centimeters above your head, in proper position so they don't get dislodged. All the other angels wear them like that, even Harry's friends, Liam and Niall, who live just a few clouds away from him.

 

  
He giggles to himself softly as he bounces the halo on his toes, tossing it between his right and left feet. It's night now, the sun had set a few hours ago, so the luminescence of his halo is even more brilliant than it normally is. He smiles to himself, pushing his curls behind his ears as he practically juggles the halo between his feet. He's gotten so good at this; playing with his halo. He'd never dropped it far, never more than a few clouds down the on the small number of times his feet or hands had slipped, but he hasn’t slipped up recently.

 

  
He’s aware that tossing his halo around like this is a bit of a risk. It’s not something he's supposed to do, and he knows it. But he's always been a bit mischievous, a trait that wasn't usually found among the angel race. He's a bit of a cheeky little angel, and he likes that about himself.

 

  
He shifts his position so he's lying flat on his tummy, his cheek turned to one side as he closes his eyes and lets the pillowy cloud caress his face. He loves the luxury of being able to sleep on clouds. It's one of the perks of being an angel. The clouds are always so soft and warm and inviting; they seem to mold to every curve of your body as you sink down into absolute bliss.

 

  
Harry toys with the hem of his white shirt, feeling the thin, silky fabric between his fingers. His tunic is pretty comfortable for something laced from gold. He lets out a deep yawn and tucks his halo loosely underneath his tummy, turning his head around so the moonlight is tickling his nose. He always loved the moonlight, how it gave his skin and ethereal glow, and how it was beautiful in more or calm, soothing way than the sun. He closes his eyes that were blessed to be the color of emeralds and lets out a sigh of contentment. He loves being an angel and he loves his halo.

 

  
*

 

  
Harry wakes up a few hours later to the feeling of emptiness in his body. He knows it isn’t an emptiness from hunger because he'd eaten some pomegranates a few hours ago. And it's not like the emotional emptiness, either. He's happy today, like always. There's really no reason for him to be sad about anything. Even still, he feels like something is missing, quite literally. Like a part of his body or a part of his soul has been taken away, or at least moved somewhere else.

 

  
It takes a moment for the haziness of sleep to fade, but once it does, Harry’s hit with a stark reality. His halo. It's not under his stomach where he left it. He always leaves it there when he sleeps, even when it’s just a short nap. He feels butterflies fill him at the prospect of losing his halo, but no. It's okay. He's dropped his halo before. It's probably just a few clouds down.

 

  
The curly haired boy begins to chew on his lips as he jumps down to the next cloud, a lot more cautious than he would normally be. Halos provide an angel's protection, and an angel's wings. He can't fly properly without it. It's a bit ridiculous really, how a large majority of their power is held in a gold, fragile, floating, instrument that can so easily be lost. But then again, Harry really is the only angel reckless enough to lose it.

 

  
He feels his pulse start to pound, anxiety pouring through his veins as he skims through the clouds, losing hope more and more as the clouds get lower and lower. He feels his heart drop like the clouds are dropping, tears filling his eyes and sparkling in the warm glow of the moonlight.

 

  
He begins to cry softly, his cheeks going pink like the roses he sometimes likes to collect when he's playing on the surface and he feels his mouth start to quiver; sad, quiet sounds bubbling from his bitten lips.

 

  
Who is he without his halo? An angel is nothing without his halo, he might as well be a fallen one or even a human because without his halo, without his power, he's practically useless. He doesn't want to be useless. He just wanted to have a little fun, play with his halo like always. He hopes he's not being punished.

 

  
"Please..." The green-eyed boy whispers hopefully, closing his eyes and letting the tears cascade down his cheeks. He hiccups loudly, folding his hands together and biting his lip, preventing any more pathetic sounds from being let out. "Please let me find my halo... I need it."

 

  
He shakes his head. He doesn't really know if this will work. Normally, locating something would be quite an easy task. If he had his halo, his virtual power source, a locator charm would require little effort. But he doesn't have his halo, so he needs to work a little harder.

 

  
He shuts his eyes tightly and continues to wish, not speaking out loud anymore, but asking through his soul. He knows his soul is strong. He knows what he's asking for is being reached. He just needs to ask a little bit harder....

 

  
"There." Harry states softly, mostly to himself as he wipes the remains of the tears from his eyes. He knows where his halo is now. Its on the surface, in someplace grimy and dark. He can feel someone else's presence on it though, someone who isn't supposed to touch it. It doesn't feel like a human, though; humans know not to touch the things that belong to angels. He can feel another supernatural being on it.

 

  
Is it a demon? No, it isn't that. Doesn't feel hot or wet enough. What he feels on his halo is cold. So cold, it burns.

 

  
*

 

  
He automatically knows where he is the second he arrives there. The area is cold, dark, and it’s making goose bumps form on his normally silky smooth skin. The air is thick and sulfuric, burning through his lungs, physically telling him he shouldn't be there. He feels restless souls materializing around him, nipping at his ankles and swimming up his shoulder blades where his wings would normally be. He frowns softly and brushes them off with his hands. He knows they can't cause him any real harm–they're just annoying–but they wouldn't be messing with him like this if he had his halo.

 

  
He trudges on through the graveyard, wrapping himself with his own arms because he wants to feel like someone's holding him. He shivers at the feeling of the dank, spongy ground beneath his feet and closes his eyes, singing sweet lullabies and counting to ten over and over again in his head, doing anything to avoid the feeling of complete and utter fear that washes over him. He knows he shouldn't be here. This is not a place for angels.

 

  
"Are you lost, love?"

 

  
His eyes snap open at the unexpected voice. It’s not a particularly loud voice, it’s a little quiet and low, but it sounds like honey, thick and smooth and pleasing to the ears.

 

  
"No, I'm just... looking for something." Harry replies cautiously, shifting his eyes and blindly searching for where the voice came from, but failing because his eyes still haven't adjusted to the almost inky black dark.

 

  
"Right here, love." The voice says again, and this time, Harry can see where it’s coming from. It belongs to a man with tanned skin and feathery hair the color of caramel. His fringe is covering part of his forehead, styled in a windblown sort of way. His face is sculpted like the statues in front of the mausoleums and his lips are thin and curved, but somehow plump in the same sense, colored like a glass of Pinot Noir. He's wearing a simple shirt the color of charcoal with sleeves that come halfway up his forearms and a neckline that shows off the valleys of his collarbones. He has a pair of jeans on as well, tight as can be and black as the night surrounding them.

 

  
He's heavily tattooed, inked beautifully and elegantly like a canvas with artwork that was meant for him to know and others to interpret. His eyelids are half closed, uncaring and expressionless, but his eyes... Oh, his eyes. They're blue, a beautiful cerulean with the icy intensity of lightning and the rich depth of the ocean. They’re the most beautiful pair of eyes Harry has ever seen.

 

  
"What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a bad place like this, hmm?" The man says, his voice dripping from his lips in a seductive purr, and the green-eyed boy can’t help but blush. He's never been spoken to like that before,but he sort of likes it.

 

  
"I, um. I lost my, uh..." He trails off slowly and looks up at the man through his eyelashes. He doesn't really know if he should tell this stranger what happened. He knows better than to trust handsome men in graveyards but oh, his eyes are so beautiful. And how could eyes like that lie?

 

  
"I lost my halo. I think I dropped it somewhere over here." He finally mumbles out, twirling one of his curls between his fingers and rocking back and forth on his heels. He really wants to ask this man for help, but again, he shouldn't be asking random people in graveyards for help.

 

  
"Oh, your halo? Wouldn't know anything about that..." The older man says with mock confusion, sliding his hands behind his back and into his pockets, wiggling his fingers around until he pulls something out.

 

  
He smirks down at Harry, letting out a humorless laugh at the younger boy's gaping mouth. "You wouldn't be referring to this, would you?" The man nearly blurts out, ridicule lacing the tone of his voice. He rolls his eyes and huffs loudly when he sees the curly-haired boy's eyes fill with fat tears, his voice quavering and hiccupping like a child who'd had their candy confiscated.

 

  
"T-That's my halo! Give it back, please!" Harry whines, trying to sound assertive but knowing he doesn’t. He isn't strong like the person in front of him is, so maybe he can cry his way out of the situation. He stands on his toes, reaching helplessly for the halo and feeling his cheeks redden when the older man raises his hand above his head so he can only almost catch it. He doesn't understand. The blue eyed man isn't much taller than Harry, might even be shorter. But he seems to have a sense of power, or rather domination, over the younger boy.

 

  
"Hmm, I don't know if I want to give it back. You look so cute when you try to be aggressive." He laughs, dangling the halo above Harry's head like he's some sort of pet. The younger boy's face is so red he's almost crying and the older man loves every second of it. He loves playing his sick little games.

 

  
"Listen, darling," The blue-eyed man whispers darkly, his playful tone of voice switching to something sinister in a matter of seconds, making the younger boy shudder from the way his tone flipped so quickly. "I'll give you your halo back, on one condition. You’ve got to do everything I say."

 

  
He takes Harry's chin into his hand, forcing their eyes to meet, and squeezes his jaw in a near-choke hold practically moaning at the sight in front of him. A beautiful angel, sweet and helpless and vulnerable, just waiting and pliant for him to ravage and feed on. The loveliest sight in the world.

 

  
"Will you do it, pretty baby? Will you do as I say?"

 

  
Harry feels tears prickle his eyes again as fear overtakes his body, his mind molding into an almost catatonic state. He's so scared. So, so scared. He doesn't know who or what this man is, or what he wants, or what he's going to do. But he knows he's handsome, and he knows he's powerful. And he definitely doesn't want to know what the man will do if he denies his request.

 

  
"I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want." The curly haired boy murmurs, his tone barely above a whisper as he feels the older man's steely gaze burning into him. He lets the tears that he's been holding in fall down his rosy cheeks, sniffling as he sees an almost psychotic grin form on the older man's face.

 

  
"Good choice. You're a good boy." The blue-eyed man whispers filthily, smiling widely and flashing the sharp, white glint of his fangs. "I'm Louis by the way. ‘M a vampire in case you didn't notice already." He confirms his statement by retracting his fangs and letting them out once again, the pearly white as dangerous and unpredictable a razor. "What's your name, love?"

 

  
The green eyed boy pouts his lips, momentarily stopping the quivering motions, and lets out a sniffle. "Harry."

 

  
*

 

  
Harry feels his stomach jump as he feels Louis’ hand capture his waist and lead him to wherever his house is. His hand is freezing–lifeless even–and Harry can’t feel a pulse in his fingers. He gasps when he feels the vampire’s hand squeeze lightly at his rib cage, a deceitfully gentle touch.

 

  
“We’re here, love.” Louis pronounces gently, his words so smooth and soft, Harry almost wishes his voice would go back to the way it was before. He doesn’t like it like this, all calm and reassuring. It’s nothing short of frightening.

 

  
He leads Harry to the door of his house, his hand firmly grasping the younger boy’s warm, slightly soft middle. He ushers him in quickly, like he’s afraid to get caught by someone, and slams the door shut.

 

  
Louis’ house is large. The walls are a stark white and the floors are wooden, a dark cherry oak. The ceilings are high and curved and it almost looks like they’re glowing, but Harry can’t find the light source.

 

 

There’s a couch in the center of the room, the color of coffee with cream and a plush rug underneath it. If Louis hadn’t told him what he was, he’d never expect this to be the house of a vampire. But then again, he’s never been inside a vampire’s house.

 

  
“Let’s go upstairs, Harry. Up you get.” Louis says gently, tapping the curly haired boy’s bum and leading him up the circular staircase with glass steps that look so easy to slip from. He takes a firm hold of Harry’s dainty hand, pulling him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

 

  
Louis’s bedroom is large; the size of an entire floor and it’s nearly empty. There’s a window with sheer curtains that won’t do much good to cover anything that goes on inside, and a balcony with a glass table and a single potted plant.

 

  
“Pay no attention to that. None of that concerns you.” The older man says quickly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts that only recently seemed to stabilize. “Get up on the bed, just sit, yeah?”

 

  
The curly-haired boy obeys, nearly tripping as he hops up on the bed, leaning against the headboard and fluffy pillows, waiting for Louis to do something. He cocks his head to one side when he sees the older man at the other side of the room, fumbling for something in his drawers and setting the items at the foot of the bed. Harry can’t see what he’s gotten out, his vision is obstructed by the vampire’s body, but he’s not sure he wants to see what Louis has.

 

  
“W-what are we going to do?” Harry questions nervously, almost cowering into the pillows as Louis gives him a filthy smirk. The older man climbs up on the bed in front of him, hovering over the younger boy, his silver pendant spilling from his shirt and tickling the green eyed boy’s neck.

 

  
“‘M gonna feed on you first.” The vampire flashes him a wicked grin, exposing his fangs again and letting his hot breath swim down Harry’s neck, making him whimper softly, like a frightened little animal. “I’m just so sick of true blood…” He continues, bringing his lips to the supple skin of the angel’s collarbone, nipping it without his fangs. “And human blood isn’t much better. It’s just so fucking vile, isn’t it? Dirty and full of diseases, the lot of it.”

 

  
He chuckles darkly to himself when he hears Harry’s breath hitch and his pulse pound, loving the effect he has on the younger boy. He hasn’t even touched him properly yet, and he’s already gone half off the deep end.

 

  
“But the blood of an angel is so pure. It’s so clean and so fucking sweet. It’s intoxicating." He brushes his lips across Harry’s ear, his fangs caressing the shell as he leaves a chaste kiss at the top of it. “You’re intoxicating, Harry.”

 

 

He feels Louis’ fangs piercing the pale skin of his neck without warning, pain shooting down the upper half of his body. He feels a sucking sensation at the spot, like a drink being sucked from a straw. He feels the vampire’s lips suckling the surrounding area, drawing out every last drop of blood like Harry is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

 

  
His eyes roll back into his head as Louis feeds on him. The sensation of being emptied of his blood is far too much for him; he feels like he’s melting, falling and floating, ecstasy and haze and everything all at once. He doesn’t know if he should like it or not, it hurts a lot, especially since Louis doesn’t let up with the suckling, digging deeper into the curly-haired boy’s soft flesh with his fangs like he’s thirsty for it.

 

  
“God, you taste good. So fucking good.” Louis growls, his voice coming out in a crazed, almost euphoric tone. He licks his lips, lapping up the last few drops of crimson on Harry’s neck and retracts his fangs, letting out a deep sigh of contentment. His eyes flutter shut and his lips curl into a smile.

 

  
He purses his lips at the beautiful angel beneath him, taking in his pliant state and pushing his curls out of his eyes, wiping away the beads of cold sweat on his forehead. Harry’s cheeks are paler than they were a few minutes ago, and his eyes are dilated so they’re almost black. The older man feels a heat forming down below, his trousers beginning to tighten. He’s got Harry right where he wants him.

 

  
The angel feels a hand traveling up his shirt, a lifelessly cold hand, gliding up his torso and onto his chest. He lets out soft puffs of air as the hand travels along his body, exploring his soft skin. He shivers visibly when he feels one of the fingers brushing against his right nipple, caressing the warm, sensitive skin.

 

  
"Feel good, love? Like it when I touch your little nipples?” The older man whispers filthily, nipping the skin of Harry's ear, licking hotly at the shell.

 

  
"N-no! Please stop..." The curly haired boy whines uselessly, letting his eyes flutter shut and his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

 

  
"Stop?" The vampire asks almost mockingly, wiggling the angel's warm bud between his fingers and eliciting broken gasps from him. "But I thought you said you'd do whatever I wanted?" He removes his hand from Harry's shirt quickly, stuffing it back into the pocket of his jeans. "I guess you don't want your halo back then."

 

  
"No! I want it back, I'm... I'm sorry for not listening." The green-eyed boy mumbles, biting on his lip like he doesn't know how much of a turn on it is for Louis. "I'll do anything you want."

 

  
Louis laughs, shaking his head and whispering something Harry can’t hear as he peels off the younger boy’s pants, surprised that he isn’t wearing underwear. He rubs his thumbs in circles where his hipbones are, gently enough so he doesn’t leave any bruises, and spreads his legs apart, his hands traveling up his subtly curvy thighs as he exposes his most private area.

 

  
He feels himself harden more at the sight of Harry’s hole. It’s tiny and it’s pink, fluttering from the feeling of Louis’ thumbs rubbing against it and the coolness of the room. He coaxes the younger boy’s thighs apart more so he can give himself a better view, and he practically drools at the picture in front of him. The curly haired boy is so small down there; he doesn’t know how he’ll manage to fit.

 

  
“Turn around, love. On your hands and knees.”

 

  
Harry obeys quickly, scrambling to get into the position Louis told him to, grabbing for purchase at the smooth sheets and arching his back, having a bit of an idea of what Louis is going to do to him. He drops his head, letting his curls cascade against the sheets and whimpers lowly to himself, closing his eyes, distracting himself from the sensations he’s feeling.

 

  
He feels the older man grab at his hips, pulling him closer and pushing his shirt up so his bum is fully exposed, then ripping the whole thing off altogether, tossing the shredded fabric somewhere irrelevant. He feels his cheeks being spread again, and he can’t help but feel embarrassed. Louis is looking at his hole. He’s so exposed and vulnerable, and the vampire is still fully clothed.

 

  
"Have you ever been licked out before?" The older man asks. He nips lightly at the fleshy skin of Harry's ass with his fangs, spreading his hole apart with fingers and blowing cold air around the area.

 

  
"N-no..."The younger boy whimpers, burying his face into the sheets and letting out a surprised squeak when he feels a hand colliding with his ass.

 

  
"I asked you a question, love. I expect you to answer it properly." He growls, flicking his tongue in circles around the curly haired boy's hole, reveling in the feeling of it throbbing around him. "Do you want to run that by me again?"

 

  
"I've n-never..." He whines as he feels Louis' tongue pushing past his rim, stretching the puckered muscle. "I've never been eaten out before." He all but sobs out, his skin feeling hot and his head feeling hazy with pleasure.

 

  
"Hmm... that's a shame. Angels like you always have the best little holes. You always taste so fuckin' good and sweet, leak the sweetest fuckin' juices." He begins to prod inside with his tongue, pushing in and out, loving the hot, tight feeling of Harry's velvety walls around him. "Tastes like fucking heaven."

 

  
He prods at the younger boy's entrance, slurping and sucking, getting him dripping with his spit and his own juices. He begins to groan lowly against Harry's hole, the deep vibrations going straight to Harry's cock, and for the first time of the night, he can feel it swell and drip at the tip, his precum a beautiful, sparkling, pearly white sight. As pure as he is.

 

  
"Oh... god..."

 

  
The green eyed boy wiggles his bum shyly, testing the waters as he follows the feeling of Louis' tongue. It feels so warm and wet and tingly, touching his sweet spot, and he doesn't want it to go away. He pushes his hips back against the vampire's tongue, whining quietly and fisting the sheets as he chases his pleasure.

 

  
"God darling, you're such a slut for it." The older man growls, giving Harry a sharp slap on his right bum cheek, loving the sight of it jiggling. The curly haired boy blushes at the dirty name; he's never been called a slut before. But he decides he likes it. He wants to be a slut. He wants to be Louis' slut.

 

  
"Ah! Louis-ngh-I think I'm..." Harry moans loudly when he feels the blue eyed man's tongue poking at his special spot, the one that makes him feel like a falling star and he keens. "Louis, I think I'm close."

 

  
"Don't cum." The older man speaks firmly, solidifying his statement by leaving a warning slap on Harry's bum, turning the fleshy skin the same crimson as his blood. "You don't get to cum until I say you can."

 

  
He places his hand between the younger boy's legs, coaxing his thighs further apart and using his free hand to palm himself through his jeans. He's painfully hard now, and the pretty little sounds Harry's making aren't helping his arousal go down. He curses to himself softly as he feels the pain of his erection trying to poke through thick denim and he finally gives in, popping his button open and pulling his jeans off.

 

  
He peels his boxers off too, tossing them where the angel's discarded clothes are, and makes quick work of peeling off his shirt, his mouth not wanting to leave Harry's bum. He feels a trembling sensation on the younger boy's skin, it almost feels like he's trying to hide it, and he notices the way the green eyes boy's hole throbs when he presses his thumb against it.

 

  
"Did you just cum without permission, Harry?" Louis inquires, his hand swimming to the sheets below Harry's cock, feeling the telltale fluid in his fingers. The curly-haired boy blushes, biting his lips and shaking his head rapidly.

 

  
"N-no..." He says softly, tears prickling his eyes so Louis could maybe have some sympathy on him, but the older man wasn't having it.

 

  
"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. I can tell when you're lying." He purrs, running his thumb across Harry's plump hips and pushing it into his hot mouth.

 

  
He picks up the pillow that had been thrown off to the side earlier and hands it to the younger boy, who takes it with shaking fingers. He hops off the bed agonizingly slowly, like he wants to draw out Harry's uncertainty and slumps down on the chair next to the nightstand, looking at his nails nonchalantly.

 

  
"Since you apparently love to come untouched, get yourself off on that pillow. And don't even think about using your hands." He says blankly, picking at his nails like he doesn't have the time to look at Harry.

 

  
The green-eyed boy blushes even harder as he sets the pillow underneath his crotch, straddling it so his thighs are beneath the cushion.

 

  
"B-but that's embarrassing..." He whines, putting on a babyish act, hoping that the vampire will take pity on him and maybe just fuck him or let him suck him off, but Louis just scoffs, rolling his eyes dramatically at the curly haired boy's almost bratty act.

 

  
"I don't care. You make yourself come, Harry. Be a good boy and listen to me. You told me you'd listen."

 

  
"I don't want to! Please don't make me, I can't..." He sobs, letting his tears fall freely now. He hasn't let himself properly cry this whole night, he's been holding it in for far too long. He doesn't want the vampire to see him like this, doesn't want him to know that he's weak. He hiccups loudly, squeezing his hands into small fists as he rubs furiously at his eyes, trying and failing to wipe his tears away.

 

  
"Harry, love." The cerulean-eyed man seems to materialize in front of him, his hand cupping Harry's chin as he leaves small kisses on his forehead. He whispers comforting words in his ears, speaking reassuringly now, calming the green-eyed boy down for whatever is in store.

 

  
"You want your halo back, yeah?" He lets himself smile gently when the curly haired boy lets out a small yes. "So are you gonna be a good boy for me then? Are you gonna do as I say without complaining?"

 

  
"Okay..."

 

  
"That's good. Are you gonna promise me you won't be naughty anymore? Because naughty boys get punished, and I'd hate to punish someone as lovely as you."

 

  
"I'll be a good boy for you, I promise. I'll be your good little slut." Harry mewls, his voice quavering with want, need, desire, and all the things he never knew he liked.

 

  
"That's a good little angel. Now, like I said, I want you to get yourself off with that."

 

  
Harry nods softly, adjusting the pillow beneath his thighs and presses tightly against it as he begins to rut against the pillow, moving his tiny hips in circles and chasing his pleasure. He flutters his eyes shut and begins to whimper softly, already panting and sweating, embarrassed by how desperate he sounds.

 

  
"Look at me when you do it." Louis says, his voice thick with lust as he begins to stroke his aching length slowly, twisting his fist at the head and swiping the drop of precum with his thumb.

 

  
"Ahh, Louuuiiis!"

 

  
The curly-haired lad is moaning shamelessly loud as he circles his hips in figure eights against the pillow, putting an endless amount of hot pressure against his cock. His skin feels sticky with sweat and precum and his body feels floaty and hazy, sensitive and numb in the best way, as he ruts against the pillow. He keeps the movement of his hips deep and slow to grant himself as much pleasure as possible.

 

  
"Yeah, baby, that's it. Move those hips for me." The vampire groans, stroking himself at an agonizingly slow pace, drawing out his pleasure as long as he can. "Play with those pretty little nipples, love. Want you to cum while you’re touching them."

 

  
Harry keens at Louis' order, tucking the pillow tighter underneath his thighs so it's pressing directly against his cock, his length dragging across the fluffy material. He brings a tentative hand up to his right nipple, starting off with gentle flicks and brushes that elicit cute, small sounds, then goes onto hard, sharp pinches, rolling the perky bud between his fingers, drawing high pitched squeals from himself.

 

  
"O-oh my... I-I'm gonna cum, Louis! Please let me cum!" Harry begs dramatically, sounding as if he's on the verge of tears, and as much as the blue-eyed man likes to see him like this; desperate and whiny and needy, he isn't that mean of a person.

 

  
"Go ahead and cum." Louis practically hisses out, giving one last stroke to his achingly hard length before pulling his hand off completely, running the excess precum on his thigh.

 

  
Harry looks so out of it now, like he's in the zone. His lips are parted in a silent moan and his curls are matted to his forehead, stray strands falling into his glassy eyes. His cheeks are flushed like fallen rose petals and his thighs are trembling. His cock is dripping obscenely, wet and red at the tip, yet already hardening again. He looks like a mess. A beautiful, angelic mess.

 

  
"Louis, please... no more." Harry starts lowly when he feels Louis climb on the bed above him, nipping at his neck. His words are slurred and unsure and he has tears streaming down his cheeks, his breath is coming out in broken little pants.

 

  
"No darling, none of that. M'not done with you yet."

 

  
The caramel-haired man lays Harry on his back, pushing a few pillows under his bum so he has an easier angle for what he's about to do. He slides his hand between the angel's thighs, silently ordering him to spread them and Harry obeys in a hesitant manner, taking to sucking his lower lip between his teeth for comfort.

 

  
Louis rubs two of his fingers at Harry's hole, prodding the tips in and realizing that Harry is soaking wet, even for an angel. He's practically dripping onto the sheets, leaking an endless drip of clear, sticky and shiny and all Louis wants to do is stick his face between the younger boy's beautiful butt cheeks and taste his sweet juice again, but he knows he can't. Well he could but he wants to put things inside. He loves it when they're wet like this.

 

  
“Such a beautiful little hole…” The vampire muses, pressing against it with his finger and squeezing Harry's hipbones when he bucks forward from the touch.

 

  
“Stay still.” Louis says lowly and removes his hands from the younger boy’s ass. He gathers a generous amount of Harry's slick onto three fingers, rubbing them together to spread the warm wetness. He places a quick kiss to the juncture of the angel's hipbone, a kiss that makes him melt from the affection.

 

  
Harry feels a wet finger prodding at his entrance and lets out a deep breath as it pushes inside slowly. He feels his walls being stretched and he welcomes the burn that comes with it. The feeling of Louis' finger inside him, penetrating him and rubbing in all the right places makes every nerve in his body light up, and he lets out a quiet moan.

 

  
The caramel-haired man is going far too slow for his liking, only using one finger, barely thrusting at all, wanting to draw everything out as long as he could. But fuck, Harry just wants more, he wants all three fingers inside of him at once, he wants those fingers spreading him open, hitting his tingly spot.

 

  
“Oh, please Louis, more!” The green-eyed boy whispers, backing his ass against Louis' fingers and earning a harsh slap on his thigh.

 

  
“Cut that out.” Louis warns, removing his finger quickly, and letting some of the slick leak onto the bed. The sheets are already getting stained. “I’ll decide what I give you.”

 

  
Harry feels the finger nudging at his entrance again, but this time there are two pushing in, faster and more haphazard. The sticky, sweet, wet stuff that Louis seemed to crave is leaking down Harry's inner thighs now, onto his balls and dripping slowly onto those pristine, white sheets.

 

  
“Ahhh… Louis…” The younger boy moans delicately when he feels Louis' fingers hooking around inside him, searching for the spot that turns his body into compliant jelly. He begins to writhe from the older man's feather light touches against his prostate and looks up from the pillows to see Louis smirking at him filthily, his fangs drawing in and out at a steady pace.

 

  
He whines when Louis pushes another two fingers inside his hole, fucking him properly with his fingers, hitting his prostate dead on every time. The burn of his hole being stretched out courses through Harry's body and he welcomes it, letting the pain mix with his pleasure. He's so far gone, overstimulated and numb and loving every second of it.

 

  
“Fuck, you’re already falling apart and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” Louis coos, slowing the movements of his fingers and letting Harry back onto them. “That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers.”

 

  
Harry moans as he obeys, his breath hitching when he feels another finger sliding inside. He's bucking his hips down to meet the thrusts of the older man's fingers, wailing at the overwhelming situation.

 

  
"Shit, look at your slutty little hole. It's swallowing four of my fingers." Louis comments, twisting his digits around, hypnotized by the sight of Harry's hole stretching and squeezing his knuckles. "Do you think your greedy little hole can take my entire hand? Hmm?"

 

  
"I don't know..." The curly haired boy sobs, already feeling stretched beyond imagination but craving for more like he's starved to be filled up.

 

  
"You don't know?" Louis tutts, sliding his fingers in deeper and teasing his thumb in circles at his him. "I think you can, little one." The vampire gives Harry a filthy laugh when he writhes and shreds at the sheets from the sensation of being impaled by Louis' fist, his lips parted open and his eyes half-closed like he's in a state of shock. "But if you won't, I'll make you."

 

  
Harry is moaning loud and high in his throat, his thighs throbbing, his cock fully hard and dripping like a leaky faucet at the tip. His hole is stretched out obscenely around Louis’ fist, and it's making filthy wet, squelching sounds as the older man pushes his hand in and out. The sounds would be unappealing at any other time, but now, it's music to both of their ears.

 

  
"Look at that, darling, you're stretching so well for me. Bet I could fit even more in that slutty little hole of yours couldn't I? Could probably put another hand in there and it still wouldn't be full enough for you, isn't that right?"

 

  
The angel shakes his head slowly, wanting to keep a shred of his dignity even though he knows he likes being treated like this. He looks desperate enough already, he doesn't want to look needy.

 

  
"Are you lying again, little one? I thought I told you that was naughty." Louis inquires, furrowing his brow and twisting his wrist inside Harry, loving the feeling of his hot little hole tightening around his wrist with want.

 

  
"I-I...m'sorry." The emerald-eyed boy squeaks out, making grabby hands at Louis' chest and digging his heels into the mattress, the waves of pleasure in his body swimming from his fingertips to his toes.

 

  
"What do you need, love?" Louis responds teasingly, pumping his fist and making sure to curl three of his fingers roughly against Harry's special spot so the only sounds he can make are ragged whimpers.

 

  
"N-need your cock... can you give it to me please?"

 

  
The vampire grins wildly, running his tongue over his fangs as he pulls his wrist out of the younger boy, a bit of slick dripping along with it.

 

  
"All you had to do was ask."

 

  
Louis coos at the younger boy’s neediness and pulls his hips closer to him, his hands resting on his waist and his butt lined up with his crotch. He strokes his aching erection a few times, hardening it even more so. He gathers more of Harry's endless wetness on his fingers, getting his cock thoroughly slick for the curly-haired boy’s ass.

 

  
He rubs his leaking cockhead against Harry's hole, close to moaning from the way it winks and throbs for him and he pushes himself in slowly, loving the way the pretty boy's pucker relaxes for him, opening up perfectly.

 

  
The younger boy lets out a moan from high in his throat when Louis bottoms out, his eyes squeezing shut at the sensation of being practically impaled. The stretch is painful, it hurts so, so bad, like he knew it would, but he loves it. He loves being completely wrecked, so hard that he’ll feel it for the next day and the next; he loves the pain and the pleasure mixing together in a mind blowing concoction that makes him see stars.

 

  
He feels the feather-haired man begin the thrust shallowly and quickly, wanting to show Harry how rough he can be. He grips the younger boy’s hips tightly, leaving fingerprints on his beautiful, flawless skin, and he only snaps his hips harder when he hears the cute, desperate whimpers bubbling from Harry's lips.

 

  
“You like that, my angel? You like your tight little ass being filled up with my cock?” Louis growls, leaning over and giving him a better angle to suck bruises into the curly haired boy’s neck.

 

  
“Y-yes, fuck, I love it! Don’t stop, please don’t stop!” Harry blubbers, his voice being overtaken by embarrassingly loud moans that grow in volume with every push of Louis' hips. His knees begin to grow weak from the sensations and he lets them relax like a pile of jello, the only thing holding his thighs up being Louis' strong arms.

 

  
Harry starts to bite his lips, the only thing he can do to prevent himself from crying out, and he's biting so hard, his teeth digging into the pillowy skin so fresh drops of blood form, and when he opens his eyes fully, he sees Louis above him, licking his lips like he's a drug addict craving a quick high.

  
He doubles over, changing his angle so his cock is hitting Harry's spot dead on and he stutters his hips at a breakneck speed, using only the smallest amount of his vampire stamina, knowing it's enough for the younger boy. He slips his tongue out and licks over Harry's bottom lip, so lightly it almost tickles, and gathers up every last drop of the angel's euphoric blood. His eyes nearly roll back in his head, the blood of the angel feeling like liquid power in his veins.

 

  
"Fuckin' hell, Harry. You feel so tight, so good. I'm close,  _shit_."

 

  
He grips Harry's hips, holding onto them for dear life, and slams into him mercilessly as though the boy is a ragdoll. He takes all the pleasure for himself but wipes the tears from Harry's cheeks in a rare moment of tenderness.

 

  
"Mmm is that good, darling? You like it when I use your body to get myself off? You like it when I use you like a little fuck toy?"

 

  
The green-eyed boy can't even respond; just nods rapidly and swallows the sobs and moans in his throat taking everything that the older man is giving him.

 

  
"Ah, Lou! M'gunna cum!"

 

  
He spills into Harry a few seconds later, filling him up with his seed and still stuttering his hips when he's done, riding out his high, not wanting the blissful feeling to go away just yet.

 

  
He sighs deeply when he pulls out, heavy pants leaving his mouth and he wipes the sweat from his forehead, collapsing onto Harry's chest and using his shoulders as leverage to hold himself up. He flutters his eyes open and looks down at the younger boy, his swollen lips and his eyelashes that are clumped together with his tears and he just looks so desperate, and Louis wouldn't be a gentleman if he didn't let this beautiful boy finish.

 

  
"You can cum, Harry." He rasps, and the younger boy nods and wastes no time in wrapping his fingers around his cock, stroking himself weakly for a minute before he feels the heat coil in his tummy. He cums with a silent moan, a little of the pearly fluid spurting onto his chest, and a lot of it dripping onto the sheets next to him.

 

  
"You made a mess, love. Gotta clean it."

 

  
The younger boy shuts his eyes and crawls begrudgingly to the foot of the bed, leaning over to pick up his discarded shirt so he can wipe up his mess, but the older man stops him, grabbing his wrist gingerly and shaking his head.

 

  
"Not like that, love. Want you to clean it with your tongue."

 

  
Harry feels the last of his blush bloom on his cheeks and crawls over to the spot, poking his tongue out hesitantly and licking up his mess. It's embarrassing, licking up his own cum, but he's done far more embarrassing things tonight, and now all he wants to do is close his eyes. He licks up every last bit, his tongue sticking to the fabric and he whines at the taste. He's sweet; sickeningly so and he's lightly salty. He’d be lying to himself if he said he doesn't want to know how Louis tastes.

 

  
When he's done cleaning up, he gets up and sits on his knees, leaning against the headboard and looking at Louis through his eyelashes innocently.

 

  
"Can I have it back now, please?"

 

  
The ocean-eyed man nods, almost amused at how many times the cute little angel said please in one night and picks the halo from the pocket of his discarded jeans, surprised at how much it's still glowing.

 

  
"Here you go, darling. You earned it."

 

  
Harry smiles softly and accepts his halo from Louis’ surprisingly soft hands. He examines it for a few seconds for scratches or any other sign on damage. Harry fixes it on top of his head, making sure to get the right angle so it floats and he feels all the relief and contentment in the world wash over him at once.

 

  
"You did so well for me, angel. I had a lot of fun with you tonight." The vampire says genuinely, a small smile curling on the corner of his lips as he places a small kiss on Harry's forehead.

 

  
"Louis...do you mind if I sleep here tonight? It's just a long way back and-"

 

  
"Yeah, I suppose. A gentleman always lets someone stay the night, innit? We've got to get washed up first, and does tea sound okay?" The cerulean-eyed man chirps, the aquamarine of his eyes sparkling, and Harry can't help but smile.

 

  
"Tea sounds wonderful."

 

***

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments/feedback help a lot xo


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